


sorry

by thisissirius



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: “I said listen,” Aaron says again, eyes hard. Robert nods. “I know you want to save Andy, that the only reason you’re still tangled up with them is because of him, but I need you to look at what this is doing to you.”
   “To me?” Robert frowns. “Aaron, this has nothing—”   “You’re a step away from losing it, Robert, don’t tell me you’re not.” a fix-it for the tonight's (15/11) disaster of an episode.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written because not only was robert completely out of character this episode, everyone else seemed to be as well - including aaron. him completely ignoring the mention of sarah's anniversary annoyed me. the home farm thing annoyed me. robert annoyed me. everything annoyed me, so have this offering. it's not quite the porn that @wholove wanted me to write, but that's for tomorrow.
> 
> unbeta'd because that's how i roll. except for the look over i demanded @seektheinfinite give it because i'm an awesome best friend (and so is she).

Rebecca smiles and something in Robert’s chest tightens.

He loved her once. Not as much as Chrissie, nowhere near as much as Aaron, but he loved her. Or loved the idea of her. She was exciting where Chrissie was comfortable. She was forbidden, Chrissie was his. It was something he could take and have. He’s not proud of the way he behaved back then, knows he’s not shed that part of himself completely, but he doesn’t _want_ to be that person anymore. He wants to be better, wants to not see people as means to an end.

It’s hard with Rebecca. She’s the embodiment of everything he needs to save Andy, something else Robert never thought he’d want, not with this kind of ferocity. He owes him, yeah, but it’s different. Andy’s still Robert’s brother, even when Robert’s tried his hardest to wish the opposite, still someone that Robert wants to protect.

Robert tries to soothe her worries, tries to keep her on side, _sweet_ , Vic calls it, but it’s what Robert needs. Rebecca reaches for his hand, but Robert shifts his fingers out of her grasp. He trusts himself, knows he would never hurt Aaron, but he doesn’t trust Rebecca. He needs her, wants her help, but he’s not blind. “Rebecca—”

“What’s the problem?” Rebecca’s still smiling. “It’s just a hand hold.”

It starts that way, Robert thinks. It starts with a phone call, a meeting. It starts with a kiss. Robert remembers the thrill of Aaron, the want, the desperation. The back of his neck prickles and he looks up, sees the unhappy slant to Aaron’s mouth. Chas is watching him, eyes round and dark. He feels the need to apologise, the words dying on his tongue as Chas narrows her eyes, snaps her mouth shut on whatever she might have said.

“Mum,” Aaron says, tone hard, and Chas turns on her heel and leaves the shop.

Robert feels caught out, even though he’s done nothing to warrant it. Rebecca’s smile turns sharp, and if Robert hadn’t been looking for it, he doubts he’d have seen the shift. Tracy glides over, makes a quip or two, but Robert’s focused on the anger rolling off of Aaron in waves. Robert’s tired of being on the receiving end, of feeling _not quite_ good enough, even when he’s trying.

“Hi, Aaron. Alright?” Rebecca’s voice is silky smooth, effortless, and Robert narrows his eyes at her. His skin prickles with anger. She’s riling Aaron up, deliberately, and Robert hates it. He opens his mouth to say something.

“Fine,” Aaron says, talking over him, his voice tight. He’s looking at Robert, eyes saying a wealth of things his mouth doesn’t have to. Robert wants to refute them all.

“I should go,” Rebecca says eventually, looking between them. She does, leaving Robert with a sinking feeling as Aaron sits down in Rebecca’s vacated chair, eyes sliding away from Robert and to the table. It’s not a dismissal, but Robert needs something to do, to work out where he’s supposed to go from here.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Robert says, watching Aaron’s expression shift through a myriad of emotions, none Robert’s able to pinpoint. When he gets back to the table, Aaron’s shrugged his jacket off, has that green jumper on that Robert loves best. It reminds Robert of _then_ , before everything feel apart. It reminds him of the pub hallway, of tearing it off Aaron’s head, tossing it to the floor as he preceded to fuck Aaron to orgasm in the toilets. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re apologising for?” Aaron asks, a familiar bite to his tone.

“There’s nothing going on,” Robert says, pleads, because he needs Aaron to know that. This thing with Rebecca it’s — it’s not going to go anywhere. Robert just wants to clear Andy’s name.

“I know,” Aaron says, and he sounds truthful. His eyes dart from Robert’s face back to the table. “I’m sick of this, Robert.”

Robert bristles, even though he knows Aaron has every right to say it, to want it. “You think I don’t? I hate this as much as you, Aaron, I—”

“Really?” Aaron’s eyes are bright, and Robert knows it’s jealousy, knows that Aaron doesn’t like Rebecca because of the history, because of what her being here represents.

He rises to it anyway. “How can you say that? After what we — after everything, how can you?”

Aaron looks guilty for a fraction of a second. “What else am I supposed to think? You know I don’t like them hanging around, I didn’t want this in the first place, and now I have to see you with her. Smiling like it’s all a big joke!”

Robert gets it; he knows how it must look, how he’s been told it looks. He sees the way Vic stares at Rebecca — at him — like she’s waiting for the inevitable fall. He sees the way Diane looks at him, a disappointed expression that reminds him too much of his father. He sees the way Chas’ eyes narrow, like she’s a split second of shedding any progress they’ve made.

Aaron must see some of that on his face, because he stalls, hand sliding across the table before he aborts the movement, stills. It’s his left hand, and the ring makes Robert feel sick.

“You know it’s my mum’s anniversary tomorrow,” Robert says, apropos nothing, because he’s hurt. He lashes out, doesn’t mean to hurt Aaron, but he can’t ever seem to stop. “I was gonna ask what flowers I should get, but it’s not like it matters.”

“Of course it matters, Robert—” Aaron shifts on his chair, like he’s going to stand.

“Forget it,” Robert says.

Aaron grabs his hand before he can leave, before he can run. It’s what he’s best at. He should know by now that Aaron’s never going to let him, not anymore. He’s seen the best and the worst parts, knows Robert better than he could ever know himself. “Listen to me.”

Robert waits, eyes trained on Aaron’s face. His fingers twitch against Aaron’s, feels the soothing rub of Aaron’s thumb against his.

“I want them out of our lives. I want you to stop seeing them.”

Robert opens his mouth, it’s like Aaron’s not even _paying attention_ , but closes it at the painful squeeze of his fingers.

“I said listen,” Aaron says again, eyes hard. Robert nods. “I know you want to save Andy, that the only reason you’re still tangled up with them is because of him, but I need you to look at what this is doing to you.”

“To me?” Robert frowns. “Aaron, this has nothing—”

“You’re a step away from losing it, Robert, don’t tell me you’re not.”

Robert doesn’t know what to say; it feels a little like he’s untethered, the same way he’s felt for days, weeks, but there’s always been something else to distract him, something else he needs to do. “I’m fine.”

The look on Aaron’s face shuts Robert up completely. “How many nights have you slept right through?”

“Aaron, seriously,” Robert tries to pull his hand away, but Aaron’s grip is vice tight. Robert could fight it if he wanted to, but the part of him that wants to run is being squashed quickly. Aaron sees; he always sees, even the parts Robert wishes he wouldn’t.

“How many?” Robert doesn’t know. When he says so, Aaron sighs. “And Diane? How often do you think about what she said about ya?”

“That has nothing to do with Rebecca.” Robert waits for the narrowed eyes, drops his gaze to their linked hands, at Aaron’s thumb, which hasn’t stopped its soothing motion. “It feels like she’s right.”

The admission drops between them like a lead weight, Aaron’s grip tightens a fraction. His voice drops into something softer, something that threatens to break whatever resolve Robert has left. “Why?”

Robert takes a deep breath, doesn’t know how to make himself say it. His throat feels thick, like he’s physically forcing the words out one by one. He keeps staring at their hands, knows that looking at Aaron will keep him from talking. “I didn’t think about what Vic wanted or Diane. I didn’t think about _you_.”

Aaron keeps silent. Robert doesn’t dare look up.

“I want Andy home for me, not for him.” It’s selfish. Robert hates that it is, hasn’t ever wished to be different, but he wants to be better, wants to be worthy of Aaron. He forces himself to say so, keeps his face turned towards the wall, jaw working. He feels raw and exposed, especially here in public, but Aaron’s not letting go, not letting _Robert_ go. “I’m selfish.”

“Maybe,” Aaron says eventually, voice low. His grip is all that’s tethering them both to the table. “In some things, _maybe_. Not in this, Robert, and not with me.”

“A second ago you were ready to believe I was cheating,” Robert says, without thinking. Lashing out, always hurting. Aaron raises an eyebrow and Robert’s free hand clenches into a fist against his knee. “Everyone’s always waiting for me to fail.”

Another admission, this one ripped off quickly, like a plaster. Robert feels as if the shop fades away, as if there’s just Aaron, looking at him like _that_ , eyes red and expression all love and something else, something Robert can’t pinpoint.

“I’m not,” Aaron says, quietly. It’s sincere, trusting. _Protective_ , Robert realises a beat later.

Robert doesn’t know what to do with that. He opens his mouth, closes it. Forces himself to hold Aaron’s gaze. “I don’t wanna hurt you, not with this, not with anything. Tell me how to do this any other way, and I will.”

Aaron’s expression changes, eyes bright and mouth quirking into a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

Nursing a whisky, balancing the glass on his knee, Robert hears the door to the pub open. Tipping his head against the back of the sofa, he’s expecting Aaron, and frowns when Rebecca walks in. “What are you doing here?”

It’s barely been an hour since he was in David’s shop, since Aaron promised he’d meet him back home. Robert doesn’t know where he is, but doesn’t want him to walk into Rebecca here. Robert doesn’t want her here.

Rebecca perches on the sofa next to him, handbag between them. Robert keeps his eyes on it, fingers clenched tight around his glass. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“What for?” Robert says, brow furrowing. He hasn’t done anything, not really.

There’s a look in Rebecca’s eye that’s familiar, that makes Robert’s skin crawl and he says, “Rebecca, no,” about the same time she leans in for a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron finds him at the kitchen table, glass clenched so tightly in his hand his knuckles are white.

 _I hate this too_ , Robert wants to say. _I wish I could stop this, I—_

He thinks of Andy, of what he owes, what he’s always going to owe.

“She won’t _stop_ ,” Robert snaps, as Aaron touches his face, curls a hand around the back of Robert’s neck.

Aaron’s eyes darken as Robert spills it all, the kiss, pushing her away, being afraid to say anything, waiting for Aaron to leave.

“I’m not leaving,” Aaron says, firm, kissing Robert fiercely. Robert drowns in it, wants to shed every last memory of Rebecca’s kiss, of both kisses. “I’m gonna kill her.”

Robert wants to say _no_ and _please_ and _I just want to bring Andy home_. It’s a mess, one of Robert’s own making, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, how to make it right. Even when he’s trying to be good, trying to do something good, he messes it up.

“You’re not going to mess it up,” Aaron presses. Robert turns his face away, looks at the kettle, the carpet, anywhere but at Aaron. “Look at me.”

Robert does, begrudgingly, eyes just to the left of Aaron’s mouth.

“We’ll fix this.” Aaron’s voice is soft. Robert watches his throat work, the way his mouth looks firm and unyielding around the words. Robert believes him, can’t stop the familiar thrill of _finally_ when Aaron says we. His fault, always his fault, but this he’s fixing, this he’s trying to be better at.

“I love you,” Robert says, because he always has, always will. He doesn’t think he can stop, _wants_ to stop.

Aaron’s lips quirk up into a smile and he kisses Robert, fierce and all-consuming. “I know.”

Robert wants him, wants Aaron to fuck him until he can’t remember his own name let alone Rebecca’s. It’s not hard to say, not even a secret, and the heat and approval in Aaron’s eyes is all Robert needs to tug him towards the stairs. He pauses at the roses by the door, half in water, wrapped and beautiful.

“For your mum,” Aaron shrugs, the first hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “She’ll be expecting ‘em.”

Because they’re what Robert gets every year, the flower he’d given her when she was alive; she’d always press a kiss to Robert’s head, look at him the way nobody else ever did, ever has since — until Aaron — like he’s the most important, like he’s everything. Robert didn’t deserve it then, doesn’t think he deserves it now, but he wants to, tries to be worthy of it.

“Fuck,” Robert says, hauling Aaron in because he’s Robert’s everything, because he’s the only thing that matters. Aaron shoves hard, presses Robert against the staircase, hand tight in his hair, the other cupping the front of Robert’s jeans. “Aaron, fuck, _Aaron_.”

Aaron bites at Robert’s neck, his jaw, his mouth. “I love you too.”

Robert knows, lets himself believe it as Aaron tugs him up the stairs.

Tomorrow they’ll visit Sarah and Robert will talk until his voice gives out about how much he misses her, loves her, wishes she could see the man he’s trying to be. Tomorrow, Aaron will pretend he’s not listening, but Robert will tug him in, press his face to Aaron’s neck and tell her, “Say hi to my future husband, mum,” and Aaron will kiss him until their lips are numb.

Today, Robert sinks into the love Aaron offers up, lets Aaron kiss and touch away the uncertainty, the feeling that he’s going to unravel and fall back into old habits. Aaron takes everything Robert gives and treats it with the same respect and love he always has, and when he tells Robert that they’ll be rid of the Whites, they’ll marry and Robert can be himself, always just himself, Robert lets himself believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope robert wasn't as ooc as he was in that episode.


End file.
